


The Ghosts of Thoughts

by queen_olenna



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:58:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1463392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_olenna/pseuds/queen_olenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cersei does not successfully thwart all of Robert's legitimate children from coming to term. A girl, named after Robert's mother, survives. Follows canon events through her eyes and her actions could have the power to change the fate of Westeros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer Snows

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note on aging: they're aged up as the show has them, with the exception of Tommen and Myrcella who I have kept at 8 and 9 (I really cannot imagine Tommen any older). Cassana is one year older than Joffrey, so that places her around 16, born barely a year after Robert's rebellion.

If there were any occasion when Cassana Baratheon had wished she was not born into nobility, this would be it. In her fondest dress of gold and black with her finest jewellery glimmering red around her neck, she would feel utterly in place back at home in King's Landing. Here, in Winterfell, she could only grit her teeth and shiver.

She tapped her foot as she waited to enter the Great Hall. Gods, she knew she should have worn something warmer, but her mother insisted. "Do you want to look like one of them, girl?" the Queen had snorted when Cas had left her chambers in a gown lined with golden wool. She had hurried back to her room, and after three more gowns had been disapproved by her handmaidens she was very nearly late for the celebration.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the eldest Stark child begin to approach. There was something about Robb Stark that was incredibly endearing. He had his mother's Tully auburn hair and blue eyes, as well as an easy smile that was difficult not to reciprocate. If she had to marry someone, she supposed he would be as good a match as ever. The son of the honourable Eddard Stark surely encompassed the values that any good noblewoman should idealise. "My princess." 

She smiled courteously as the heir to Winterfell appeared beside her, taking her arm in his. "My lord." 

"Just in time, " he grinned, keeping his voice low as the large doors in front of them opened. 

The baby Stark Rickon entered the hall first, his head held unnaturally high with obvious determination. Next came her sister Myrcella with Brandon Stark, another one with his mother's look. She noticed that her little sister at least had the sense to dress warm. 

She suppressed a giggle as she watched her brother Tommen enter the hall arm in arm with the younger Stark girl, Arya. Plump, sweet Tommen was never one to take to royal occasions with any particular grace - reasonable given that he was only nearing his ninth name day, but it amused her nonetheless. Her amusement was only exacerbated by the dark haired girl's obvious disgust with royal ceremony. She couldn't think of a more reluctant match.

Behind them strode the complete opposite sight. The perfect royal couple, Cas thought. Her brother Joffrey looked every bit the royal prince as he escorted the blushing auburn-haired Sansa Stark across the room. Her eyes were striking, but they were focused on one thing only. She could have only been one or two years younger than Cas but she was every bit the young girl fawning over her noble prince. A stay for any length of time at the courts of King's Landing would sort that out, she mused. 

"Shall we?" Robb nodded expectantly out into the great hall.

Cas sighed, suppressing a shiver, and followed.

-

There was something more familial about Winterfell than there was in King's Landing. She found that the blazing fires and the loud conversations in the great hall were enough to keep her warm enough to appropriately conduct her royal duties without being too distracted by the cold. Winter was coming, sure, the Starks enjoyed warning everyone of that - but for now it was still summer. Summer snows, she thought grimly, gods help us all.

She was seated between the two eldest Starks, Robb and Sansa. Against her expectations, she actually enjoyed conversation with Robb - as the wine had begun to flow, they spoke as if old friends, and she felt utterly comfortable in his presence. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Sansa was completely charmed by her little brother. She could only smile at that. The trip may do Joffrey some good, she supposed - he had been getting more unsettled at court the more he aged and perhaps an extended stay in a new environment would rejuvenate him a little. 

As the night went on Robb spent a longer time regarding her, as if assessing her. She figured that he must realise the potential significance of this event as well. "You look very beautiful tonight, princess," he eventually said with a small smile. It seemed genuine to her at least, but in what respect she could not say.

"You flatter me, my Lord." She mustered the grace to blush. She must have been a sight, she supposed, wearing a summer dress when the snow fell outside. She could blame her mother for that - or perhaps she should thank, if she was thankful for the attentions of a very handsome Robb Stark.

He nodded and took a quick sip of wine. She noticed him exchange a quick look with a brown haired boy of an age with him, sitting amongst the commons of the castle. "That's my brother Jon," he explained, following her gaze. "Well, half-brother, I suppose." He screwed his face in his half-brother's direction, to which the boy rolled his eyes and looked away.

The honourable Eddard Stark had a bastard? That could be the only thing to explain the absence of Robb's brother from the lord's table. "He was raised amongst you?" she asked, puzzled.

"Aye." That was all he had to offer on the subject. Cas was tactful enough to not press the issue.

She tried to ignore her mother's eyes searing into her from the centre of the table. There would be certain expectations of her, to be sure. She was a princess. "Be careful," her mother had hissed at one stage of the journey north, "do not let them forget who you are." So she smiled sweetly at Robb and gently steered the conversation to safer waters.

It was only when Joffrey excused himself from the table momentarily that Sansa thought to strike up a conversation with her. "What's it like in King's Landing?" she asked after they had exchanged quick introductions.

"It's hard to explain to you, my lady, it's just home to me," Cas shrugged. She noticed the small wisp of hair that had fallen down the side of the Stark girl's face. "Would you like to come visit one day, Sansa?"

There was something endearing about the way her eyes lit up with enthusiasm as Cas spoke. She was going to break many a man's heart, Cas thought grimly. "Oh yes my lady, there is nothing I would like more," Sansa exclaimed. "I hear there are wonderful musicians, and feasts much larger than this with honourable knights and noble lords…"

Cas gave her a small smile, realising how sheltered the girl must be up here at the edge of civilisation. "It's certainly warmer," she replied, "and festivities are frequent and large. I cannot vouch for the honour of knights, though, my lady."

"You wouldn't last two minutes in King's Landing without me to keep you safe from all the grumpkins and snarks," Robb interjected across the table, a teasing grin on his face.

"I would! I will!" Sansa huffed at him and turned back to Joffrey, who had just sat back down at the table.

It wasn't until she retired to her bedchambers when she realised that the feeling that had settled in the bottom of her stomach, exacerbated by wine, had nothing to do with Robb Stark.

-

Her father had some motion some days after the feast that it would be a good idea to have the two sets of boys spar together, to keep them entertained. The first pair were Tommen and Bran. It was quite a one-sided affair. Her brother's thick protection that the Queen had insisted on him wearing severely hindered his movement. Bran was the more skilled swordsman by several lengths anyhow, despite the active coaching for Tommen that was being provided by Winterfell's master-at-arms. Not that Cas would mention that to her mother, of course - the idea that Tommen may be far better suited to books than swords horrified her Lannister pride. The little lord was obviously too well trained in courtesy to embarrass the Prince however, and before long they both bowed to the cheers of the small crowd. They walked off together to watch the main event, chatting animatedly.

She couldn't help but laugh at the scene Joffrey created when he decided that he and Robb should use real swords rather than practice ones. It would serve him no good getting injured - Jof was an average swordsman at best, and she presumed the older Robb would outclass him. He had always been arrogant though, and the Prince had always gotten his way. That more than anything else would be his downfall when he becomes king, Cas thought. 

"You would knock both these little boys into the dirt, you know that?"

She whipped her head around to see her uncle Jaime taking a seat beside her, assessing the swordsmanship that was occurring in front of him. It is said that when he was Robb's age he was already one of the greatest knights in the realm. He was probably better than Robb and Joffrey combined, and then some. It was he that had taught her to use a sword in her spare time - you never knew when you'd need it, he reasoned. Trained in secret by the Kingslayer for more than half her life, she supposed it would be wrong for her not to have some sort of ability, even if she were just a little girl. "Not officially, uncle," she grinned.

It was good to see him. Since staring at the ceiling for half the night after the feast, she had planned to find him as soon as she could. After all, he was the person that she came to with all of her problems, even the silly ones. Half the time he didn't listen, but that was still double the time her parents did. More importantly, to her knowledge, he had never betrayed her confidence. 

He rolled his eyes at her. "You've got far more Baratheon in you than your brother," he observed drily. "Must come with that black hair of yours. Whatever people say about your father, the man could fight." She knew what he meant by could - in her earliest memories of him he was as fit as a bull but years of drunken gluttony had not served to keep her father in any sort of decent physical condition. 

She regarded him quizzically. "Surely Lannisters have some soldierly genes, do they not? Have you suddenly gained humility in regards to your skills, uncle?"

"No, niece, I am still the best swordsman in Westeros," he laughed, "but I am one of a kind. You Baratheons breed fighters like rabbits." He leaned back, his white cloak shimmering in the sunlight somewhat. "Lannisters are usually of a more subtle kind." He raised an eyebrow at her. "You are both, gods help us all."

She smiled. "I can't see Jof or Tommen being particularly subtle about anything either, though."

He regarded her with a strange look before it was replaced with his almost permanent bemused expression. "Gods know why Cersei decided to breed such useless boys."

She sighed, thinking carefully over what she was going to say next as the clang of metal rang in the background. She trusted her uncle Jaime more than anyone, but still. This was a delicate matter. "Uncle… I need to ask you a favour, something you can't mention to anyone, especially mother." Gods, she shouldn't be getting him to do this, but she had to. He waited, an eyebrow raised in anticipation. "I was just thinking, I… I have told you of my… my feelings in regards to…"

"Yes, fucking women," he sighed. "Nothing gets your more nervous. I have already told you, once you have a husband and a baby on the way you can do whatever you like in your bedchamber. Don't worry about your feelings so much." He placed his hand over hers. "You're like your mother, you worry too much. You'll be a maid with frown lines."

Jaime Lannister, not a care in the world for anything. "I know, Jaime, it's just…" she struggled to find the words. "I don't know what to do." Thoughts had weighed heavily on her mind as she lay in bed after the feast, thinking about the wrong Stark. The wrong auburn hair and blue eyes. It had to stop, she knew that much. Yes, she would still marry some lord and lie with him and have his children, but…

"You could bed a whore?" She rolled her eyes at that - he knew her well enough to know that was inconceivable. "You would have been better to ask Tyrion about such things," he said, feigning offence, "I wear a white cloak."

She let out a thoroughly unladylike snort - true enough he was a knight of the Kingsguard, but you could hardly call the Kingslayer honourable. "I don't trust the imp, Jaime, I trust you," she sighed. "I would trust you with my life, which is what may be at stake here if mother finds out."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, niece, your mother wouldn't behead you for it. It's not like you've even _done_ anything, you're as chaste as a holy sister." She couldn't help but laugh at that - comparing her to a holy sister seemed laughable. "Even if she would, your father certainly wouldn't care. I daresay he'd find it amusing." She noticed the crowd's volume start to rise, cheering Robb or her brother on. Probably Robb, she figured. "It's okay, Cas," he smiled, putting his hand on her shoulder as he rose, "don't fret."

She sighed, having gotten absolutely nothing out of the conversation that she didn't know before. "Just… convince mother that Sansa would be a better match for Joffrey than I would be for Robb," she pleaded, looking up at him, "but you can't tell her that I don't want to marry him. You can't, it will give it away."

"And what argument should I give for that?" he asked, seemingly bemused. "You two are oldest, and you should be married first."

She considered for a moment. She had gone over her potential suitors many times in her head - it was only natural. "I could marry anyone," she shrugged. "There's the heir to Highgarden, the cripple. His younger brother, the Knight of Flowers - we could be deviants together, or so people whisper." Her uncle laughed at that. "A boy in Dorne, only a few years older. Edmure Tully, heir to the Riverlands. All good alliances, don't you think?" He shrugged, nodding. "There's so many other people for me to marry, it'd be a true shame if my little brother had to pass on his best match on account of me."

The crowed erupted as Robb emerged victorious from the duel, her brother looking appropriately chastised. When Jaime turned his head back to her, it was with a smirk. "Don't worry, Cas, I'll make sure you don't get married to the noble, gallant Robb Stark. You can get married to the Highgarden cripple instead." 

She rose as he walked away, figuring that she would be expected to sew and gossip with the women of Winterfell rather than waste her days watching men fight. _At least I can go home first, uncle_.


	2. The Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a while to write, but here we are. I may be slow, but posting the first chapter at least forces me to get back to it eventually...

It was a clear day the next time Cassana spoke to Robb Stark. Her mother had been the reason for that. "You are my daughter and you will do your duty," she had stated firmly one evening, several days after their arrival. 

"Joffrey is the one betrothed to marry, not me," she sighed. "I don't need to have anything to do with Robb." In truth, she had been avoiding him since she had heard the news. He would have made a good husband, but then, she would have been married. "I am not to be married just yet."

Cersei sighed. "Betrothed or not, women have a certain… charm, do they not?" Cas almost laughed at that. "Use it, girl. You'll be far more important to the alliance Joffrey's betrothal brings than he will." 

Whether it was her female charms or otherwise, she and Robb had quickly continued on from where they had left off at the welcoming feast. He was easy to converse with, with kind eyes and a smile that other girls melted for. By the third day of slow walks through the castle grounds they spoke freely, almost seeming unbound at times by many of the restrictions placed upon them by their positions. His direwolf Grey Wind padded softly behind them, trying to keep up. "Is it true that your father is coming back with us as the King's Hand?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

The thud of arrows against their targets and men shouting got duller as they walked. "Aye," he replied, "and he's leaving me here as Lord of Winterfell. Do you think it suits me?" He gave a small smile.

"Do you think it suits me?" She mocked, giving him a light playful touch on the arm. "I haven't got a clue, to tell you the truth." They stopped walking, Cas tilting her head with a smirk. "How old was The Young Dragon when he conquered Dorne?"

He narrowed his eyebrows. "Fourteen. But-"

"How old was he when he died?"

"Eighteen, I think. Why-"

"If you remember that then being a lord suits you," she grinned. "That's what my uncle Tyrion told Joffrey about being king, anyway." Her brother had, of course, caused a fuss at the notion - what little respect that he had for the dwarf was hardly going to be reinforced by a lesson in caution. She supposed she had learned more from the tale than her brother. 

He laughed. "If the only requirement for being a lord is not invading Dorne, then I'm sure I'll do as fine a job as any." They had begun slowly walking again as they heard the chatter of handmaidens approaching. "Bran and my sisters are going down as well," he added, slightly sombre.

It wasn't hard to notice the strength of the bond between the members of the Stark family. Cas saw Arya and Sansa fight like all sisters do when she joined them and the other women of Winterfell in embroidery, but they would always leave to check up on the one who had stormed off afterwards. She had watched Bran attempting to teach Rickon a game of some sort while walking through the castle grounds. Robb and his bastard brother kept an eye on their siblings, making sure they didn't get into too much trouble. The Lord and Lady of the North watched over them all equally and guided them with a gentle hand. She supposed they would become close, packed up here in the middle of nowhere.

"You'll still have Rickon, and Jon," she offered in consolation. "Even Theon Greyjoy." He had often spoke of his bastard brother and the boy from the Iron Islands as equals, so she assumed that they were close.

"Jon will be going to the wall with Uncle Benjen," he sighed, "and Rickon is six." The wall? Foolish boy, Cas thought. Robb held his hands together tightly. "You are leaving soon, are you not?"

She nodded. "The plan is to leave in two days, yes."

"Then we are not to be betrothed." His tone was straightforward and neutral. There was no sense of sorrow or disappointment. She shook her head and he let out a laugh that sounded equal parts nervous and relieved. "Well, you would have been a pain to put up with. You remind me too much of my sister Arya, and gods help the man that marries her."

She hung her mouth wide, feigning offence. "That's not very lordly of you." 

He just laughed.

-

Brandon Stark was going to die.

Her father had told her the news the morning after her talk with Robb. The boy had fallen while climbing. She had heard the Stark children's direwolves howling and saw people rushing around the castle but she hadn't had any idea what was going on until one of her handmaidens had run up to her, crying. She hadn't known how serious it was until breakfast.

Myrcella and Tommen were distraught. Cas held her youngest brother as he sobbed. She mustered the strength to ask her father what Bran's chances of survival were with a steady voice.

The King sighed. "It doesn't look good." Tommen clung to her tighter. "Still, we leave here tomorrow as planned. Ned doesn't want to leave his son, but there's work to be done at home, is there not?" He shifted his glance to his youngest son, disapproving. "You're a prince, not some snivelling back alley bastard. Gods boy, get a hold of yourself." 

Tommen straightened suddenly, furiously wiping away tears with one hand while clasping Cas' hand with the other. "Today will be spent paying our respects," the queen stated drily from her place at the table, "and be sure that you do." Her husband glared at Joffrey as she spoke.

"I don't care for the boy, why should I?" Joffrey predictably argued, hands on hips. "It doesn't make a difference whether he dies with us there or-"

"Because it is expected!" the king bellowed. Tommen's grip on Cas' hand tightened while Jof's objections seemed to shrink. "Gods," he snarled, his glance shifting from Tommen to Joffrey, "my children." Robert Baratheon was breathing heavily as he angrily strode out.

The room was silent for a few moments before Cas smiled reassuringly at her sister, who was looking more stunned than fazed. "Come on, we'll all go together, the four of us," she said lightly. "It will be easier that way."

"I'm not going," Joffrey interjected, although his words sounded petulant rather than forceful.

She sighed. "The three of us, then," she shrugged. "Jof's big enough to go by himself, aren't you Jof?" She ignored his glare. "Come on Tom, Myrcella. After we see Bran I can show you a new instrument that they play in the north, would you like that?"

Myrcella rolled her eyes. "You already showed us, Cas," she pointed out. "Twice." Nonetheless, she followed her older sister to Bran's chambers, desperate to see if her new friend was going to be okay. 

The room was empty save Catelyn Stark and her unconscious son when they entered together. "My Lady," Cas said solemnly after they were permitted entry, "I'm so sorry." She nodded, eyes still fixated on her son. "We wanted to pay their respects before we leave. If there is anything I can do;-"

"No, but thank you," the Lady Stark murmured. Tommen finally let go of Cas' hand, only to cautiously kneel beside Bran and take his. Such a sweet boy, thought Cas. She stood by the door silently while Tommen and Myrcella spoke to Bran, speaking of the things that they had done together and the games that they had played. It had only been a couple of weeks, but the bonds of friendship formed had been strong. 

"Mother." She whipped around to see a familiar face at the door. Robb looked like he had aged five years overnight. His hair had fallen all over his face and his features lined with stress. "Maester Luwin sent me with some more poultices for Bran." He inclined his head at the royal children as he moved to his mother's side. "Bran will be happy that you're here," he said kindly to her two younger siblings.

Tommen looked up at him fearfully. "Is Bran going to die?" he asked, forgetting his princely courtesies.

Lady Stark took a sharp intake of breath. Robb sighed, regarding his brother laying still under the sheets. "Maester Luwin says that the worst time has passed," he said slowly. "It appears not." Tommen and Myrcella broke out into matching grins at his words. Cas allowed herself a small smile as well. The picture her father had painted had been far more grim. Perhaps there was hope after all. "Cas," he said suddenly, "can I have a word with you outside?"

She nodded and they stepped out into the empty hall together. "Robb, I'm so sorry, truly," she said as the door closed behind them. "He's a lovely boy. I'm glad to hear he will be okay."

"Perhaps." He regarded her carefully, his gaze assessing. "Cas, I need you to promise me something for when you get back to King's Landing. You still leave tomorrow?"

"Yes. Father has the Seven Kingdoms to run," she sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

"Of course." He looked as serious as she had ever seen her. Like a Lord, she thought. "This fall, I… King's Landing is much more dangerous than Winterfell, and look what can happen here." He paused for a moment, gathering the right words. "I need you to promise me you'll look after my sisters. Father will be working and... you've seen Arya, she's bound to get herself into trouble."

She nodded. She could understand that an event like this would make him apprehensive about both of his sisters leaving so soon to go down south. She would no doubt ask the same for Tommen and Myrcella in his situation. "I will do all that I can, Robb," she assured him. "I promise. But…"

"But what?" he furrowed his eyebrows, confused.

"Only if you promise me you won't invade Dorne while you're Lord." She could only keep her face deadpan for a few moments before an uncontrolled grin spread across her face. He rolled his eyes at her, allowing her a small smile.

"I'll miss you," he said, holding out his arm. She smiled back and took his arm in hers.

"I'll miss you too, Lord Robb."


	3. The Kingsroad

The weather was warmer with each passing day as they travelled south. Cas could not help but feel a deep sense of relief. The North was far too cold and she missed the feeling of her own bed. 

There had been a brief halt in their journey after the first few days as a small part of the party broke off to go north to the wall. That included the bastard Stark, Jon Snow, as well as her uncle Tyrion. "Have fun pissing off the edge of the world," she told him with a small grin at the crossroads.

He quirked an eyebrow in response. "You should come with me," he suggested, "out of all of Cersei's children, you've probably got the biggest cock. Perfect for pissing off the wall with." She laughed, shooting back that if that were the case, it'd be an awful disappointment to see it frozen off.

Smallfolk gathered to snatch the best view of them at each town that they passed through, much like it had been on the way to Winterfell. Minor lords rushed to attend their every need while her father disappeared to any whore house he could find. For Cas, this was nothing new - but she could not help but notice the Stark children's awe at their reception. She doubted that the unassuming Lord Eddard ever caused this much of a fuss during his travels amongst the northern lords.

She took some time to talk to the Stark girls, particularly Sansa. Sansa had sought her out repetitively throughout the journey when Joffrey was nowhere to be seen, talking about everything from King's Landing to her direwolf. Cas did not need her mother to tell her that Sansa looked up to her. Just as she had encouraged her daughter to befriend Robb, she saw the political advantage in Cas influencing Sansa. Still, Cas was happy enough to oblige. The girl could be naive at times, but she had a smile that Cas could barely turn away from if she tried.

On one particular evening several weeks after their journey began, Sansa pulled Cas aside to show her a new trick that she had taught her wolf. "Shake, Lady!" she encouraged. Lady obliged, her paw rising to meet Sansa's outstretched hand. Sansa grinned widely as she shook her pets paw and gave her a quick pat on the head for her obedience. "See, she's learning!" Cas couldn't help but smile back - Sansa's glee was infectious. "Mother said that we wouldn't be able to train them, but Lady is so well behaved. Even Nymeria's good, and she's Arya's." 

"For all the glamour back home, that's one thing King's Landing is lacking," Cas said with a smirk, "direwolves."

With a glint in her eye, Cas listened to Sansa explain animatedly about just how wonderful King's Landing was going to be for several minutes, nodding every so often to give the pretence of paying attention. She had heard the same things since they had left. Yes Sansa, no Sansa, King's Landing really isn't as incredible as you think it is Sansa. Still, she was entertaining and it did her no harm to humour her. Along the journey, the king had talked about organising a Hand's Tournament in Lord Eddard's honour to be held soon after they arrived - that had only exacerbated Sansa's delight. She was going to be insufferable for this last fortnight of the journey, Cas thought with a small smile.

It was the next day during a break in their journey near Darry that their contented mood was shattered. "It attacked me, that beast attacked me!" her oldest brother had wailed after flying out from the woods, immediately being surrounded by scores of the king's men. Their mother split the crowd, running over to her son, cooing over him. If it were not for the fact that her brother looked genuinely terrified, she might have laughed at the hyperbolic reaction over the crown prince. Cas was a distance from the scene, but it looked to her like it couldn't be very serious.

She strolled over, leaving the girl with whom she'd been talking in shock over the idea that harm had befallen the gallant prince. Cas smirked at the thought. She stood next to her uncle Jaime, who had supposedly been on duty protecting Joffrey (and had evidently done a terrible job). "He alright?" she asked quietly, watching her mother cradle him as if he was dying.

"A scratch on his arm. Might leave a small scar at worst," he murmured back. Cas rolled her eyes. Oh Joffrey, always her little brother. She turned to leave when she noticed a small figure in the side of her vision. Sansa was standing quietly on the edge of the clearing, her eyes filled with tears. Joffrey had been attacked by a beast, he had said… It couldn't be Lady, could it?

She quickly walked over to Sansa, who looked like she wanted to disappear. Her hair was dishevelled and the lower half of her skirt was covered in dirt. Cas knew better than to ask what had happened - her mother had taught her better than that. Finding out what happened would come later. She merely embraced the taller girl, trying to give her some sort of comfort. "It's alright, San," she murmured, ignoring the heady rush that being so close to the Stark girl gave her. "Whatever happened, it's not your fault."

"Is he… is he okay?" she whispered, trembling in Cas' arms.

"He's fine. Just a scratch, nothing to worry about," she reassured her. She disentangled herself, taking Sansa's hands. "Are _you_ okay?" she asked.

Sansa nodded as Lord Eddard strode over to his eldest daughter. He was all imposing presence, but his eyes were soft. She dropped Sansa's hands as he approached, dipping a small curtsy. He gave Cas a grim smile in acknowledgement before turning to Sansa. "Sansa, where's Arya?"

She shook her head. "I… I… I don't know. She ran off with the butcher's boy, and…"

He cursed and motioned to one of his men. "You stay with Princess Cassana, okay?" he said urgently. "Stay here. We'll go find Arya." With that he was off, finding horses and men to proceed with what everyone presumed would be a quick search. Arya is just a girl, after all. She could've only gotten so far.

They followed those who were left to Darry - an unintended stop - when it became apparent the search would not be so simple. Somehow, Arya had managed to evade the search party for several hours and it was unclear if they were any closer to finding her. Ser Raymun Darry had nervously welcomed the royal party, apparently hurriedly covering up several tapestries in his great hall before they entered. Jaime had laughed under his breath when he saw this, murmuring to Cas quietly that they were portraits of Targaryen kings. One of the last Targaryen loyalists, the poor fools.

After the evening meal the search party had joined the rest of the group at the castle, looking downtrodden. "We'll start again at dawn tomorrow," Lord Stark had announced before retiring to his bedchambers for the night, ignoring Ser Raymun's protests of the cost of extended hospitality. Cas, after having bathed, was thoroughly enjoying having a bedchamber to herself. At many of the places they had stayed she had to share a room with Myrcella which - while she didn't mind too much - was somewhat restrictive.

She ran over in her head what she knew of Arya, and what had happened. Joffrey claimed that he and Sansa were walking together when they were set upon by Arya, her wolf, and her friend. That seemed ludicrous to her. Arya was a little wild, sure, and she could hardly conceal her dislike for Joff, but Cas didn't think she was particularly aggressive. With Sansa not supplying any information on the contrary, however, it was hard to disprove. Things weren't made any better now that her mother was on a warpath, demanding blood when Arya and Nymeria were found.

Sansa. Why was Sansa refusing to speak about what had happened? Sometimes Cas would look at her and just see a naive girl, like the insufferable courtiers at King's Landing that had nothing to talk about but boys and gossip. There had to be more to Sansa than that, she felt. After all, she _wasn't_ an insufferable handmaiden, she was a Lady in the North. There were times when Sansa would say something to her that would blow her away, some intelligence that Cas hadn't realised the northern girl had in her. There was a hidden strength there, Cas thought. At barely fourteen, however, this journey may be the first time she's ever had to utilise it.

She was spending a disproportionate amount of time dwelling on Sansa, she realised with a jolt. Maybe she should go to her chambers and just ask her what happened. That is something that her mother would tell her to do - be kind to her, manipulate her, and then get what you want. Still, there was no particular reason why Cas herself needed to know what happened. She just knew it was wrong, all wrong - Arya was still missing, a girl of eleven, and there was no news of either her wolf or the butcher's boy either. Sansa's wolf, Lady, had been tied up after the incident. Protect them, Robb had said. Maybe if she could get Sansa to tell her what had happened, Lady would be freed. Maybe that's how she could get the information out of her.

No, that was thinking too much like her mother again, she thought grimly. If it had been her that had been attacked, she had very little doubt that her mother wouldn't have lifted a finger. She had always been cold to her eldest child. Cas had never figured out why, exactly. Initially she supposed it was because Joffrey was the heir and her son, and therefore favoured - it was when she came to this conclusion at the tender age of five that she began to ask her uncle Jaime to teach her how to use a sword so that she could be the heir too. Then when Myrcella and Tommen came along she figured that it must be because they're the babies, they're younger, and everybody loves the younger ones. When she got her moon blood for the first time, she simply concluded that she was a failure.

She shook the thoughts out of her head and sighed. Tomorrow, she would find out what Sansa had seen. Either that, or she would shake the truth out of her craven little brother.

-

It took her all afternoon to find the eldest Stark girl. She found her pacing around the gardens of the castle with no company but herself, her eyebrows furrowed. "Lady Sansa," she said slowly, suddenly regretting disturbing the northerner's thoughts. 

Her head whipped up in response. She hurriedly tidied herself off, brushing leaves off her skirt. "Princess." She curtsied as gracefully as she could. Cas smiled - she was beginning to realise how dutiful Sansa tried to be. She had named her direwolf Lady, after all. "Have they… have they found…"

"Not yet." Sansa barely suppressed a sob at the news to which Cas was gripped with the almost overwhelming urge to comfort her as she would Tommen or Myrcella - to hold her for as long as she was sure that she was at least a little less sad. Instead, she sat down under a tree and motioned for Sansa to join her. "Leaves won't ruin your skirt, Sansa," she said, smiling at the other girl's abject horror.

Tentatively, Sansa obeyed, leaning against the oak that towered above them. "I figured you hadn't had your midday meal," Cas said, handing her a small package, "so I managed to smuggle you some lemon cake." Sansa's worried face lit up, breaking into a smile. "Robb said you liked them," she added sheepishly.

"Thankyou!" the Stark exclaimed, eyes bright. Cas raised an eyebrow at her as she wolfed down her food. Sansa noticed her gaze, slightly abashed. "I _was_ hungry," she muttered. Cas laughed.

They sat in companionable silence. She considered how she was going to phrase the remainder of the conversation. If she was too direct, Sansa would lose trust in her. If she wasn't direct enough, she would never get her answer. Keep them safe, Robb had made her promise. It's ironic, she thought grimly. In the end, she was using what her mother had taught her to achieve a promise to Robb. She hadn't thought the two of them could ever possibly have common cause.

"So, what do you think about marrying my little brother?" Cas asked with a mischievous grin after Sansa had finished. The younger girl blushed a deep red. "Do you love him?" she teased.

"No!" she exclaimed hotly. Cas raised her eyebrows. "Well, I don't _love_ him," she quickly explained, blushing even deeper, "but he is so gallant and brave and wise, and one day he shall be great king."

Cas nodded with understanding, as if she somehow knew the feeling. "I bet he was very brave yesterday in the face of a rampant Nymeria," she said softly, carefully gauging the northerner's response.

She hesitated. "Yes, he was. So gallant and… so brave."

Cas sighed. Of the many adjectives to give her brother, brave was probably the most ridiculous, and part of Sansa clearly knew that. The girl wasn't completely vapid. "You can tell me what really happened, Sansa," she said, placing her hand over the northerner's reassuringly. "I promise I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to." That wasn't a lie. The trick was convincing her that it was a good idea to tell other people herself. Sansa looked at her, conflict in her eyes. "Please, Sansa. If Arya's in danger, and you tell me what happened, I'll direct the search party in the right direction and they won't even know it had anything to do with you." There. I'm trying, Robb.

Sansa nodded, as if resolving herself to an answer. "I don't know where Arya is. She ran off. I don't know why. Arya and the butcher's boy… they were playing. Some silly game with swords, it was all very childish. Joffrey and I were walking together and we found them." She hesitated a moment. Cas gave her hand a squeeze. "Joffrey wanted to… join in." She swallowed. "He got a bit too… well, he hurt the butcher's boy. Then Nymeria attacked him. But only a little bit." Sansa sighed, finished with the main part of the story. "He was very hurt, but it wasn't… it wasn't unprovoked."

"Thankyou, Sansa," she smiled. "I won't tell anyone. I promise." She certainly wouldn't tell her mother that Sansa had seen the event in a completely different light to her brother. She knew that Joffrey's word would always take precedence over Sansa's in her mother's eyes and perhaps also her father's. Arya must have known this when she run away. It mightn't be so bad with both Sansa and Arya testifying the same thing, though. "When they find Arya, you know that you're going to have to say what really happened to everyone else though, right?"

She bit her lip. "I just want Arya to come back first," she said slowly. "Someone could be hurting her."

Not as naive as she seems, then, Cas thought. "Don't think like that. It's _Arya_. She's probably having the time of her life out there in the dirt by herself," she smiled. Sansa chuckled. 

They sat there until the sun went down, Cas teaching Sansa about some of the southern wildlife and plants that surrounded them. Wide eyed, Sansa said that she had never seen flowers so beautiful.

Cas wondered if she had ever looked in a mirror, but said nothing.

-

They found Arya on the third night of the search. Cas had just entered her bedchamber when she heard the tumult outside her door. It didn't take her long to discover that Arya was to be dragged in front of the King in front of both the search party and the courtiers of Darry to give an accounting of herself. Deciding she wanted to know what vengeance her mother would try and mete out first hand, as well as Arya's story, she pulled a dress over her and strode to the hall.

It appeared as if everything were to be resolved rather quickly. Arya gave her account of what happened and Joffrey lied about his. Sansa rather disappointingly pretended she didn't know a thing, but it didn't seem to matter. Her father was no doubt keen to get the whole matter over with and was content with letting Lord Eddard deal with his runaway child. 

"There's still the matter of the wolf. It ravaged my son. Joffrey will bear scars for the rest of his life," the Queen cut in. Cas felt her heart sink.

"We found no trace of the direwolf, your grace," one of the king's men interjected to the visible relief of both Stark children.

Her mother pursed her lips. "There is another wolf," she said coldly, glancing at Sansa. 

The King turned and sighed. Years of marriage had obviously taught him that it was futile to argue. "As you will," he said in a resigned tone, and turned to leave the hall.

There was dead silence for a single moment before the realisation hit Sansa. "Lady, you can't mean Lady!" she appealed, tears welling up in her eyes. She looked around the court desperately for her father, her bottom lip quivering. "Lady's done nothing wrong, Lady's good!" Arya stood next to her sister, pleading for her, loyal in a way that seemed utterly foreign to Cas. 

She stood rooted to the spot. Her mother's suggestion was cruel, even by her standards. If she didn't want the direwolf at King's Landing, she could send it away. It didn't need to be killed. She knew that she should try and say something to change her father's mind, but that would be speaking directly against her mother and her brother. Her mother had always taught her the importance of family.

Joffrey seemed to notice her then, grinning at her as if she should be proud of him. She felt utterly powerless under his triumphant gaze. She couldn't tell her father what she knew publicly, that would betray Sansa. She couldn't lie and say that she saw it herself because half the people in the court knew damn well that she had not. She stood in the shadow of the honourable Lord of the North and cowered beneath it. Honour and morality had clearly never met Cersei Lannister's glare, or the back of her hand.

The feeling of satisfaction, pride even, when she had discovered the truth from Sansa was for naught. She had carefully stored it away in case she ever had to use it. Now that the time had come and her tongue was still.

The final judgement had been made. Lord Eddard stormed out of the room and Cas slipped out after him. She fled to her bedchambers, replaying it over and over, wondering when she had ever become so craven.

"I'm sorry, Robb," she whispered.

Minutes later, the wolves began to howl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this took forever. Short explanation is school, but I'm just a shocker at staying committed to things.
> 
> I didn't keep exactly to how the events played out - I just had an image of Joffrey appearing from the forest shrieking that seemed hilarious, so I decided to keep that. Anyhow, I know things aren't exactly surprising right now but events will start to change somewhat from now on - I just felt that this very canon chapter was quite important in establishing her character.
> 
> Also, I've edited the first chapter a little bit (I think it's better anyway) so you might want to have a quick skim over that if you read it earlier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou for reading! This is my first time writing any sort of fanfic (that I have been game enough to publish anyway) so it'd be great if you could leave some feedback for me, positive or negative, whatever.


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